


Achilles' Heel

by Stella_STARgazer



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: Birthday, F/F, Slight fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-07-02 05:46:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15790170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stella_STARgazer/pseuds/Stella_STARgazer
Summary: It’s a risk, arriving unannounced at the lion’s den, but she is on a simple mission to pay it forward.





	Achilles' Heel

**Author's Note:**

> Just in the nick of time (in the US anyway)! In honor of dear Joan's birthday, enjoy! :)

“Unexpected kindness is the most powerful,

least costly, and most underrated

agent of human change.” 

               ~ Bob Kerrey

* * *

 

Perched upon the step in the crisp early evening, a mouse’s heart quickens pace with anticipation. It’s a risk, arriving unannounced at the lion’s den, but she is on a simple mission to pay it forward. Tapping a restless toe, the weight of her modest offering shifts between nervous hands. The tell-tale rustle of the lioness behind the door makes her freeze, in typical prey-like fashion. After a moment, the ruby door draws open and Joan stands in the threshold, basalt hair flowing free around her shoulders that are exposed by the wide boatneck of her loose-fitting, ash grey sweater.

“Vera. What are you doing here?” There’s a hint of irritation in her husky timber as she casts a slightly suspicious gaze upon her Deputy. Swallowing the nervous lump in her throat, Vera ventures to explain.

“I, umm, I don’t want to be a bother, so I won’t keep you, but I...I just wanted to bring you some dinner. I’ve wanted to repay the favor, since you brought food for me and mum that time a few months ago, and well...it’s your birthday, so.....” She extends her hand, offering over the burgundy gift bag with a shy smile.

Joan very nearly bristles at the thought; birthdays are occasions she usually chooses to ignore. But this simple display of caring has a seismically profound effect. She’s not used to such offers from others and can’t actually recall the last time (if ever) someone has extended any form of kindness her way. Joan stares, momentarily speechless by the unexpected gesture, a bemused look on her face. Vera shifts nervously, reading the expression as a signal of displeasure.  

“It’s just a Sunday roast and root veg mix I made, and a fresh salad. If you’ve already eaten, or don’t eat that, I can just take it back home. I guess I should have asked you what you like...but I wanted to surprise you.” She shrugs as ocean eyes fall to the bag in her outstretched hand and after a brief pause, it begins to glide back to her side.

Suddenly Joan reaches forward, awkwardly grabbing Vera’s wrist to stop her falling hand and coax her to meet her steady gaze. Gentleness comes out clumsy from such a stern woman, but she feels compelled to meet Vera’s gesture half way.

“No, I haven’t eaten yet and Sunday roast is actually one of my favorite meals.” She offers a soft, but closed mouth smile as she takes the bag.

“Lucky guess.” Vera goes pink and returns a bashful grin, her sea foam eyes twinkling with joy. Joan can’t help but notice how pleasantly it lights the younger woman’s face.

“Well, I won’t keep you. Enjoy your meal and have a good evening. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” She offers another pleased smile and nod as she moves to take her leave. Compelled and inspired by Vera’s gift, Joan offers an unexpected proposition.

“Vera, would you care to join me? I’m sure there’s enough for both of us.” Her voice holds the faintest hint of anticipation.

“Oh, I’ve already eaten and I don’t want to intrude.” Her words and dissenting wave of a hand say one thing, but the hopeful lilt in her voice conveys a different message all together.

“I wouldn’t have offered if you’d be intruding, Vera. Stay for a glass of wine then; I just bought a fresh bottle of pinot.” Stepping back from the threshold, she gestures Vera inside.

_________

Nearly two hours later finds them on opposite ends of Joan’s supple black leather couch. A second bottle of wine has been opened and for once, Joan has partaken in her fair share of the sanguine liquid. In a rare display of relaxation, she sits with her long legs propped up on the matching black ottoman, crossed at the ankles, bare feet exposing well manicured nails with a subtle clear coat of polish. Coffee eyes narrow as she watches Vera over the rim of her glass.

“How did you know it was my birthday?” She knows the answer, as she always does, but she’s curious to see if Vera will tell the truth. A guilty expression washes over the mouse’s face and ocean eyes fall to the nervous hand that picks at the hem of her navy sweater dress.

“I might have looked it up in your staff file.” She bites her bottom lip and meets Joan’s stare with half squinted eyes, prepared for a proper scolding for her breach of protocol. 

“Ahhh, snooping again.” Perhaps it’s the wine, perhaps Vera’s random act of kindness, but the lioness chooses not to attack.

“But that’s the only thing I looked at, I swear! I didn’t want to intrude on your privacy, but I knew you probably wouldn’t tell me if I had asked.”  _ Touche, the mouse learns quickly. _

“You assumed correctly.” Joan mewls with a coy half smile.

“Do you not celebrate your birthday?”

“I see little reason in celebrating the passage of one’s time on Earth.” Her response is nonchalant, but the flicker of hurt behind her umber gaze says there’s more to the story.

“Oh.” Vera shifts uncomfortably at her end of the sofa. “I’m sorry, perhaps I should have asked you first. I just...I’m usually the only one that hates birthdays.” The confession piques Joan’s interest.

“Yet you’ve come to celebrate mine?” A sly smirk crosses her full lips as she glances at the younger woman

“Other people’s are fine; it’s mine that I’d rather ignore.” She releases a sarcastic huff as she takes another sip of pinot.

“And why is that?” Joan asks, tilting her head with an air of curiosity. Vera sighs with a shake of her head as she rolls her tempest eyes.

“When I was 8, my mum promised me this big birthday party and I was so excited I could hardly stand it because she’d never let me have one before. I had spent the whole night before decorating and making little place markers for all the other kids I had invited. On the day of the party, no one showed up. She never sent the invitations; told me I didn’t deserve a party because I was such a disappointment and that it didn’t matter because none of the kids would have come anyway. I cried for an entire day. I’ve never celebrated a birthday since, that memory ruined the excitement.”

She polishes off her glass of wine and sets it on the table. Vulnerability drives her to hug a grey throw pillow to her butterfly heart. Pinot draws salty pools into her eyes, tears that dried up long ago for that sad little girl’s pathetic story. Joan watches in quiet introspection. She’s long suspected that there’s a deeper connection between them, that there lies within them both a similar beast of burden. It’s the main reason why she’s given Vera more of her time and energy than she’s granted any other person in decades. From this confession, it seems Vera too knows the heavy sadness that clings to the heart in the lonely twilight hour. The draw of kinship and kindness compels her to share a particle of her own truth.

“My mother died on mine, when I was 10.” It comes out in an awkward whisper. She’s never shared this knowledge with anyone and the sudden spark of vulnerability sends a nauseous wave rumbling through her stomach. Almost instantly she begins to regret the confession.

Surprised, Vera sits up straight and shoves the pillow behind her, sliding quickly across the couch toward Joan. Wide espresso eyes stare like a deer in headlights as Vera closes in, eventually coming to a stop by her side as a gentle hand falls upon Joan’s ivory wrist. A startled lioness stiffens at the contact, unsure of how to respond to this further display of caring.

“Joan, I’m so sorry, I had no idea. I can only imagine how difficult that must have been for you at such a young age.” Her voice is soft and the thumb that gently strokes the pulse at the inside of Joan’s wrist has an almost hypnotizing lure. It soothes the anxious tension that initially consumed her; how curious that she should find comfort in the touch of another.

“Thank you, but it was a long time ago.” Swallowing the final sip of her wine, she leans forward and places the empty glass on the table, but makes no effort to move away as she slips back into the couch, Vera still seated close by her side but her hands now worrying in her small lap.

“Still, I’m sorry for barging in and forcing your birthday in your face. I should have asked. It was presumptuous of me to assume you’d be comfortable with the intrusion. I should know, because I’d be uncomfortable if someone did the same to me. I just...wanted to do something nice, like you did for me.” By force of a nervous habit, she gnaws at the inside of her bottom lip. A long pause hangs in the air before Joan finally speaks.

“No apology is needed, you did not know. And I...appreciate...the gesture. I don’t….it’s not something I’m….used to, but I have...enjoyed the evening.”  She makes brief eye contact then quickly looks away; acknowledging an emotional response is never an easy task for her.

“I’m glad to hear it because I’ve had a lovely evening too.” Vera confesses, the smile evident in her ebullient voice.

There’s a shift beside Joan and suddenly she feels a warmth settle against her bicep and down her left thigh. Delicate fingers shyly close around her pale wrist. She stiffens slightly and the warmth leaves her arm. She ventures a glance to see aquamarine doe eyes peering up at her.

“Does this make you uncomfortable? Do you want me to move?” She questions gently, sensing the discomfort from Joan. Dark eyes stare in bewilderment and a lioness surprises herself with her eventual response.

“You are fine to remain as you are.” Kindness makes soft, what was once stone.

With a gentle smile, Vera returns her head to rest upon Joan’s bicep and slips a slender hand into an open alabaster palm. Moments later, she feels the marble fingers as they delicately close around her own and a happy mouse nestles into the lioness further.

 


End file.
